


Peaches

by vcumonkey



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcumonkey/pseuds/vcumonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At least she didn't smell like pears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peaches

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Everything belongs to BBC and Davies and all those awesome people.  
> Not too sure how I feel about this; it got away from me a few times, and I'm sure I'll fine-tune it one of these days. :)

She was as delightful as a peach, and she smelled of one, too. Something ached in him whenever he caught her scent, whenever she flipped her hair or moved too close. He longed to touch her, to see if she would taste of the fruit, as well. He sometimes said something unintentionally funny, and she would laugh, her pale cheeks turning rosy at his expense. At these times he found himself joking with her, making himself a fool, (she already made him one) just to see her smile. It was one of these occasions when he was still leather-clad and short haired, (they had been running from one thing or another, and he had breathlessly told her the TARDIS was in the other direction, and they had been running the wrong way for quite a while; she had laughed so loudly at this, clutching her sides, face pink with exertion and amusement) that he had realized he was in love with her. It was an unfortunate discovery, what with one complication or another (the fact that they were different _species_ came to mind, for a start), but one that he was capable of handling.

 

Or so he had thought.

 

When he realized his depth of feeling for her, he also realized how much she smelled of fruit. More to the point, of peaches. Now, he hated pears. He always made it a point to tell _any_ of his companions of his intense animosity towards pears. Nasty, gritty things, sometimes so juicy that messes were inevitable, and other times so dry one would need a gallon of water to wash it down. Bananas were great, but not one that could be recreated artificially. He had gone to thousands of worlds in multiple galaxies, and _no one_ could produce a fake banana smell or taste that was actually like a real banana. But _peaches_ , peaches were another matter entirely. He liked peaches, real and artificial (he had only tried an artificial peach on a planet in the Akhaten region, and it wasn’t half bad—nearly tasted like the real thing!). What was more, he liked the smell of them mixed with something that was intrinsically _her_.

 

They had just left New New York (after saying goodbye to Cassandra, Rose had decided she would like to see the new inhabitants of Earth without someone inside of her subconscious). He was standing at the controls, attempting to figure out a destination (somewhere warm and sunny, so he could see her rosy smile and coral blush) when she edged beside him. “Where are we going now, Doctor?”

 

She must have flipped her hair or _something_ , because the smell of peaches was all around him, drowning him until his respiratory bypass kicked in, reminding him to breathe. This only made it worse, and he clutched the metal in front of him to keep from reaching for her. She noticed (how could she not; his knuckles were white with the effort) and put her hand on his. “Doctor? Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, of course, Rose, peachy-keen. I, ehm, I mean. Yes. Yes, peachy. Well.” He took a labored breath and looked at her. She gazed back at him with concerned eyes, and how he _wanted_ ; wanted to reassure, wanted to comfort, wanted. Wanted her lips and her hands, wanted her peachy smell and taste to wrap around him and inside him and to never leave him.

 

But, she would. One day, she would leave. He was starting to realize that it would not be of her own accord, and for that sole fact he is thankful; too many had left him willingly in the past. It frightened him, however, how much he loved her, and how much more he could love her if the chance was given. And he knew, that if he were to confess his feelings, that she would be more than accepting, and they would spend their time together _together_ , and not just as companions. But he could not. He _would_ not. He needed to know that when they were separated (and it would happen, by accident or purpose or death or alternate world) she would be able to live her life, her fantastic, _brilliant_ life.

 

It was this that made him loosen his grip on the controls. It was this that made him ignore the smell of peaches surrounding him. It was this that made him quirk a smile and an eyebrow, grab her hand, and say, “Now. Barcelona! Did I ever tell you about those dogs with no noses? I know you know the joke, Rose! I think I may have invented it, but I tend to forget these things, as old as I am. We should go to Barcelona, and then to Poosh. Lovely moons. Lovely cheese, too! They actually have a moon made of cheese, which is quite remarkable if you think about it.”

 

She smiled, grateful he was back to normal, and nodded. “Okay, then, Doctor, Barcelona it is. Then you can take me to see this cheesy moon.”

 

“Right! Dogs that smell with no noses, here we come!” The TARDIS groaned and wheezed (he really should figure out that noise; maybe a parking brake was on?) and landed somewhere with a soft thud. Rose bounded to the door and opened it; letting out a huff of disbelief, she turned to the Doctor with a laugh, pale cheeks becoming peachy. “Scotland, Doctor? Really?”

 

“Oh, that’s not right.” He walked to the door and stood beside her, looking out at the dreary landscape. He tasted the air and shouted in delight. “Oh! Victorian Scotland! We should see Queen Victoria! She’s always a laugh!” Grabbing Rose’s hand, he pulled her from the TARDIS, and ran to their next adventure.


End file.
